Dewdrops on Brambles
by Bingo7
Summary: The mountainous country of Bamfr desires a royal marriage to seal the contract of peace with Alkahad. The princess of Alkahad detests the idea and considers King Karl an uncouth barbarian. She decides that her newly arrived lady-in-waiting, Eithne, is her solution.
1. Prologue

**Dewdrops on Brambles**

**Prologue  
**

A long time ago there was a man who was king of his country. He worked hard to be just and kind. As a ruler and leader he never asked his people to do something he would not do himself. Consequently the people loved and respected him. They gladly gave of their substance and obeyed the laws willingly. Like their noble king, the people of the land believed and followed the Bright One who reigned over earth and sky. They gave Him their hearts and devoted their lives to the well-being of those less fortunate. They were all very happy in this peaceful time.

As the wise old men say, however, where there is great good, great evil must reside. So evil entered the land in the form of one of the king's lesser advisors. Hungry for more power and cold to the ways of the Bright One, this man polluted the mind of the good king's son. The young man became adverse to work in the fields, study the words of the wise ones, or sages, learn the affairs of the kingdom, or listen to the teachings of his parents. He grew to be proud and haughty; disrespecting and scorning women and children. He mocked the sages. He slumped about, always a sarcastic or insulting comment on his sneering lips.

The good king and his queen grew distraught at this seemingly sudden change in his behavior. The flattering persuasive words of the crafty advisor however, over ruled all their pleadings, threats and advice. The young Prince had become so black hearted that he had begun to convince many young men of the army to do the same vile, rude, and haughty things he did. This group of disreputable young men became the bane of the land. They mocked, insulted, pushed and shoved. They burdened, burned and called their deeds brave. If there were troubles to be found, the culprits were most likely to be had in the faces of these young rascals.

The people were at first saddened and angry and did their best to demolish the growing group of bullies. However, as others joined their motley crew, and their power increased, they were tolerated or accepted.

Since the aging king had no other son, he asked the wayward prince to wed a girl of his land hoping the sweet spirit of the native maids would tame his wild son. The prince agreed, and his father died at peace. No sooner had the good king gone, than the evil advisor persuaded the young man to visit a neighboring country whose vices were infamous throughout the land. The new king consented and returned home with a foul mouthed beauty who loved only riches and pleasure.

Immediately the sages and the people protested against this marriage reminding the young king of his oath to his father. Because they made such a ruckus, the king cancelled the wedding to the foreign wench, and took a rich native girl to wife instead. With a good wife at his side the people were pacified, and pleased with the king's renewed good faith.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, however, and the first would-be bride exacted her revenge on the young queen who was with child. Kidnapped and disposed unceremoniously into a swamp, no one knew what happened to the queen when she mysteriously disappeared. Like a dog to its vomit, the young king returned to the foreign whore, to the grief and despair of his family, people, and the sages.

He became a tyrant; proud, uncaring and lazy. Over time his bad example and that of his notorious queen convinced the people particularly the younger generation that they too could act selfishly. Darkness covered the land as the Bright One was no longer followed or revered.

The first young queen was not completely lost, however, under the protection of the king's sister and a sage, she bore a son. This son, cultivated with caring and true breeding grew to understand his position in life as the true heir to a disintegrating throne. He was taught the teachings of his grandfather and wise ones by the sage who stayed with his mother and aunt when all the others had left due to the darkness spreading over the land.

The corrupt queen learned of this faithful band's existence and poisoned the king's mind against them. Blinded to all good, the king sent men to destroy his former wife, his sister, his young son, and the sage. The son and his aunt managed, with the help of the sage's grand-daughter, to escape to a friendly neighboring land, but the former true wife was killed instantly. The sage was captured and before they burned him before the king, he prophesied that his seed would one day return to the land and restore the peace and the belief of the Bright One.

The king and his evil wife tried to destroy all of his kinsmen, but one escaped. The sage's grand-daughter accompanied the exile young prince. Together with the aging aunt they built a humble home and lived out their days as farmers, always reminding their children of their lineage and the promise they were to fulfill.

* * *

_I know this was long winded, but it is essential to the story. Don't worry, it gets A LOT better. So, any predictions to the plot or characters? Is there something I need to clarify about the legend? Please stick around. I promise I will finish it. This story has been stuck in my head for years. It's nice to finally put it out. Oh, and I decided no beta-reader, so feel free to point out corrections._


	2. Chapter 1

**Dewdrops on Brambles**

Part 1: King Karl

Chapter 1

_Mysterious are the ways of the Bright One, for He sees beyond mortal vision into the dimming glories of the past, the glowing glare of the present, and the dark paths of the future. ~Junius, Sage under King Henri V of Alkahad_

Her eyes unsettled me.

Cerulean. Almond. Cunning. They raked me from my leather slippers to my carefully twisted, brown bun. Suddenly they met my eyes and a smile matched the piercing blue in a flash of friendliness.

"I like you already!" Princess Colette beamed. She nearly grasped my hand with excitement, but remembered propriety and clasped her white hands together instead.

I smiled too, but not as enthusiastically. Perhaps I had imagined the suspicious scrutiny. The unsettling feeling did not leave, only burrowed deep within my mind.

"You are very kind, your majesty."

"Colette. Call me Colette."

I curtsied with grace and gratitude. "Thank-you, Princess Colette."

A bemused smile crossed her face. "Welcome to the castle of Alkahad, Lady Eithne."

Lady Eithne. No longer was I Miss Narseau, but a lady of the court of Alkahad and would wait upon her majesty, the young Princess Colette. She couldn't have been more than seventeen summers, and her face still bore the fresh energy of blooming youth. I smiled at it, for it was very lovely on her. My own youth had matured in the years and as I was approaching my twenty-fourth year, looking upon her adolescence only made me recall with fondness the memories of my own.

To her, life was an empty page with endless possibilities. It was like being in a flower garden and picking an array of flowers to add to a splendid bouquet. There were no restrictions, no hindrances. I had left the flower garden for the vegetable patch. After all, vegetables were a source of food and strength, which was needed in this world of cares and practicalities. Still, I loved flowers.

"Come," she declared with authority. "I will show you to your quarters. I had a direct hand in decorating, so I do hope you find it to your liking."

"I'm sure I will, your majesty."

"Lady Eithne, please."

"Princess Colette." I mentally chided myself and tried to break the habit of the proper respect to royalty, at least for this one. Her informality made me wonder, but I did not question.

She led me through the grand estate of Alkahad commenting lightly on a favorite work of art or the history of a certain tapestry or painting. Her polished, charming air spoke deeper of her confident refinement and cultured upbringing than her obvious rich attire and title.

"Ah, here we are." She stopped at dark chestnut door with a copper doorknob. "My own quarters are here to your left so that you can hear me should I call out."

The maid who had drifted behind us now stepped forward and opened the door, before nimbly stepping aside. We entered.

Velvety crimson and a soft gold lined, painted, threaded, and coated nearly every inch of bedding, cushions, chairs, rugs, pictures, paper, and curtains. Sleek pine created the large couch and elegant writing table. Soft rugs with intricate designs covered the dark marble floor. The scene was far lovelier than I ever imagined. Was I, the mere lady-in-waiting, to live in such luxury? I almost dared not want to see what the princess's accommodations were. I saw no bed, and was about to question the princess on the matter when she spoke.

"You must see the invention my father recently brought in. Maid, open the couch."

This last order was directed to the timid girl who had followed. She stepped forward silently. I watched in amazement as she grasped the bottom and back of the couch and pulled and pushed on them until they were lying in a bed formation. Princess Colette enjoyed my impressed features.

"It saves on having to make those horrendously huge beds and the need to include couches or armchairs. However, _I_ still maintain the traditional large bed. Come, I will show you the lavatory."

And so it went on. Dozens of scented bottles for the bath or air, a chamber that emptied the human waste in the room below, a small stove especially for heating water, small knives made particularly for the nails, cosmetics for every part of the body, a cord which would summon servants rooms away. Endless extravagance that exceeded anything I had ever beheld, and all for a few choice souls. I would never had seen it if I had not been chosen by their majesties to attend on Princess Colette. Did I consider myself fortunate? Bright One forgive me, but I did.

I had nearly not become Lady Eithne. Mother and Father were deeply worried and concerned for my safety and wellbeing. Even though they were quite confident in my independence, their worry was completely understandable. I was their only child placed precariously between many failed attempts and small sad tombstones in our back lawn. However, Father had received an offer of a life time and knew he could not be selfish and pass it by.

As a wealthy merchant we were in a strange position. The commoners envied us and complained of our "snooty" ways. The noblemen looked upon us condescendingly and refused to accept us into their tight circles. So, we kept to ourselves and strived to be as friendly as possible to both sides. Then, father made friends with a particularly honest and understanding nobleman. He was a rare find indeed and made the wise choice of liking father. During their business transactions this nobleman told father of a position that needed to be filled at the royal castle where he had connections. The young Princess, Colette, required a new lady-in-waiting. He told him that if Papa wished, he would send a letter of recommendation for me.

Father returned that night and we had a long discussion. It took some time to persuade mother, but eventually she agreed. They informed the nobleman of our choice. It wasn't a week, before I received an envelope with the royal sigma upon it. I was so nervous and excited, that mother had to open it for me. They had accepted me.

And so, I now I was being introduced to my charge, my mistress, and the girl who still left me feeling unsettled.

* * *

The interior of the sanctuary was small, barely holding a dozen persons. The white washed walls contained simple pictures of beautiful distant scenery or saints performing good deeds. At the far end was a single window, emitting a bright shaft of light. I smiled, for it was the perfect resemblance of gifts bestowed by the Bright One. A few wooden benches, worn with time stood faithfully waiting to be of comfort to burdened guests.

At the time I was the only visitor. An old bald man dressed in the customary grey robes of a caretaker sat in the corner, his head bowed. I respectfully sat on a middle bench and breathed the air tinged with rosemary. The stillness settled my heart and was a great relief from the constant noise and bustle of serving Princess Colette.

She expected me to be back in a quarter of an hour with her most recent gown, but the seamstress insisted it was not ready, and I took the chance to visit the lonely sanctuary that I had seen stuffed into a far corner in the back of the castle's gardens. Vines had overgrown its walls and roof and weeds grew down the center the path. I wondered that the caretaker had let them; usually they were quite persistent in keeping the sanctuaries of the Bright One tidy and welcoming.

I stole a glance at him. Perhaps he was too old. As if sensing my gaze, his head lifted up and a soft, sad smile rose among his creases.

"Good day, fair maiden."

"Good day, blessed caretaker," I responded with a nod of my head.

"It has been many a day since I have seen such a young and healthy face inside these walls. Normally the old and infirm visit here, and then only seldom."

"My soul still needs nourishment, blessed caretaker," I commented respectfully, "Perhaps because of my body's youth."

The smile grew. "Ah, you are a rare jewel, maid."

I shook my head, and studied the wooden floor. "No, only in constant need of guidance." I paused, afraid my next question might convey impertinence, but spoke despite my reserve. "Is it because of the scarcity of visitors that the sanctuary is not kept, blessed caretaker?"

The smile dimmed. His eyes rolled about the room as if remembering yester years. "I have seen this place full, but that was before I became the caretaker. Even then the numbers dwindled and with my educator we tried desperately to bring back the growth. But… these are evil times. The glitter and excitement of Alkahad's capital and court have dimmed our tiny sanctuary. I was once diligent in keeping it as it should have been. However, my body is weak, and my tools have broken and there is no fund from the royal family to replace them. I have done my best, but there is only so much a lone caretaker can do when there is no flock to follow the Bright One."

My heart pitied him. I stood; ready to go to his side and reassure him that there were those who remained loyal to the Bright One, even though they were not so plentiful. However, as I moved down the row a shrill tone resounded far off in the gardens, calling my name. It was the seamstress, no doubt informing me the gown was ready.

"I'll be back," I promised the caretaker. "Every day."

I followed the red faced, impatient seamstress back to her quarters. After lecturing me on the proper care and handling of her newest product, as though I had never seen a royal gown before, she sent me away. I returned to the princess's room and managed to open the door without letting a single thread touch the floor.

"There you are! You're ten minutes past the allotted time! What detained you?"

I was startled at Princess Colette's tone, for it was laced with a petty anger I had not heard directed to me before.

"The seamstress had some details unaccomplished, Princess Colette," I replied coolly. "So, I visited the sanctuary in the garden while she finished. I'm sorry you had to wait. Perhaps next time it will not be so."

Her furrowed brows rearranged into a bemused look as she regarded me. "You went to the old sanctuary? Why?"

I stared back. Did she not know the purpose of a sanctuary? I replied honestly, "To be near the Bright One."

A dazzling little laugh burst from her lips. "Oh, Eithne! How quaint! I did not realize you liked that old tradition. No one goes there anymore. You don't need to feel obligated to do the same. I don't even know why it's still there. Father has probably forgotten its very existence."

"Nevertheless, it is my intention to visit every day."

Her eyes focused on me and again I felt that unsettling feeling descend on me. The moment passed almost as soon as it came for Colette turned her gaze to her gown. She waved her hand dismissively as if I had chosen a disagreeing color to embroider my handkerchief with.

"Whatever suits you," she said lightly, and did not speak of it again.

Still, I did not forget or break my promise to the blessed caretaker.

Eventually I learned that his name was Alain, and since he always had plenty of time on his hands, his ears willingly caught my troubles and stories of the life inside the castle. He had not been summoned there for years. The royal family had once respected his skill as a doctor, but in the past years they had instigated a foreign man to be their physician, and Alain was completely forgotten.

I spoke of her constant need of companionship and assistance. She could hardly strap a buckle without my help. From the very first morning she had spent over an hour directing and instructing me on the exact procedure and details of how to complete her cosmetics. If there was one rule forgotten, or one element varied, her cool sweet voice would demand that I start again.

If her lady friends were not calling, she turned to me to listen to anything she wished to say, rarely asking or expecting a reply. I ensured the bathroom was well stocked with all her scents, cosmetics, and soaps. Late at night if she could sleep I would read, listen, or start a bath for her until she slept. Once, I was even asked to cut up her meat at the dinner table.

"I do not understand Princess Colette," I confessed to Alain one day. I had grown quite comfortable with him and eagerly looked forward to when I caught moments to escape to the tiny sanctuary down the lane. "She is as inconsistent as the sea, yet just as beautiful. On one occasion she shall invite me to sit at tea with her noble guests and fill my cup herself. The next day she shall scold me like a child before the same guests and send me off to do a task. I am not offended, only confused."

"She is still a child and has not settled her ways with maturity."

"Perhaps," I allowed. "However, I feel sometimes that she is testing me, pushing me. Wondering how I will react to certain things, though I don't know why. For instance, while I sat at tea with her guests, she mentioned to them how I visited you. Most of the girls ridiculed the idea or simply laughed it away, calling me old fashioned."

"It is true, our beliefs are old fashioned," he sighed.

"The Bright One is not a fashion," I murmured respectfully yet firmly. "He is truth."

Alain stared at me a moment then said, with a thick voice, "If only everyone saw as you did, Eithne, the world would know no troubles."

I studied the ground. "I may speak perfect truth, Alain, but that does not mean I live it. I have far to go. For instance, I must come to love the princess in my heart and not in obedience only. Her ways still upset me, and I must accept her without criticism." I laughed with no humor. "Again, I say what is true, but I cannot act on it. I do not know how."

Alain was silent for a moment. I stared at the candle at the front of the room, watching a drop of wax slowing sliding down the side. The scent of rosemary was strong. Perhaps Alain had no answer; just as the Bright One had not yet given one to me. Alain spoke.

"Do you pray for the princess, Eithne?"

"Yes, every day and sometimes more than once."

"What do you pray for, specifically?"

"I plead the Bright One will open her eyes and present the truth to her. I pray that she will see the wrong in her flighty actions and seek to right them. I hope that she will one day view my own actions as the correct path and follow so as to lead to the Bright One. I pray for her soul."

"Is that all?"

I paused, straining to think of anything else, and guilt tightened my heart when I could not. "Yes. That is all."

"It appears that you love her lost soul, but not the actual person you see every day. Eithne, you must not pray for her soul, alone. Pray that she shall…have success on her riding trip, and no harm will come to her. Pray that she shall make a good impression with her friends. Pray that others will treat her well, and that she may find happiness in the life she has. Pray to know what_ you_ can do to ease her life and mind. It was one thing to be concerned with a person's soul. _You _must learn to be concerned for the person in their current state. Only then, will you learn to love her. Do you understand?"

"I am to go beyond the act of duty as her lady-in-waiting, and am to become her friend, is that it?"

He smiled broadly. "Ah! You have summed up my lecture in a sentence! The Bright One bless you in your endeavor."

I smiled. Now, it was only left that I carry out such an endeavor. I thanked Alain for his wisdom and after a quick departing prayer I returned to the castle. Colette would be finishing tea with one of the ladies. Yesterday she had been annoyed at the lady over some trivial matter, and had decided to give her one more chance to prove herself today. In my heart, I prayed that she would find satisfaction with the encounter. It was a start.

"Eithne!"

I turned abruptly to the sound of Colette's voice. She was sweeping down the hall as quickly as elegance would allow her. To her left her father had just emerged from a council room, a tall blond man at his side. The man was dressed in thick trousers and a long cloak. He looked foreign. Colette flashed them a smile as she passed, but King Henri did not allow it.

"Colette! This is Fritz, the ambassador from Bamfr."

Colette paused to incline her head. "Good afternoon, sir. I do hope you find your stay pleasant and productive."

I reached her at this point, as the ambassador murmured a reply, his blue gaze brushing over us both. I barely had time to curtsy before Colette whisked me away. She was upset and would no doubt vent her frustration in her room where I could internalize every word.

Her words did not come immediately, so I asked, "Is everything well, Princess Colette?"

"No," she all but snapped. "Father continues to meet those stupid ambassadors, trying to find me a husband. The very idea. As if _father_ knows _anything_ about match making. He maintains that old fashioned notion of arranged marriages. I don't believe it. I want to find my own husband. If I don't want the man, I shan't have him. _I'm _the one who has to live with the fellow, shouldn't _I _be the one to choose? Tell, me Eithne, did your parents ever force you upon a male?"

I bit my tongue to maintain a straight face. "No. They did not."

"They did not encourage you to marry?" She appeared startled.

Reluctant to share my personal life and issues, I replied, "They did not have as great a need of a married daughter as your father does. Being a princess means you must be political, even in your marriage. I'm sure your father will choose someone who will meet _all_ your needs. He cares—"

"He is the king," interrupted Colette. "His interests and cares remain solely in the kingdom. _Not_ me. This has upset me, Eithne. I need to relax. Go start a soothing bath for me, and include a scent that will erase these troubles from my mind."

I curtsied briefly and left to carry out her bidding.

* * *

The next day, my silent thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a scream resounding down the hall. I recognized it at once to be Princess Colette but did not hear words immediately. Her form appeared in the doorway, but she continued to address the person behind her.

"I shan't!"

"You shall!"

"I should rather die!" Colette's threat was a shriek of woe. I restrained myself from clapping my hands over my ears.

"You _will _wed the King of Bamfr and _that_ is final!"

Colette slammed the door in her father's face. "I _hate_ you!" She spun around and threw herself upon the bed. Unsure what to do, I continued embroidering the hem of her gown. Gold thread on green satin. Eventually she rolled to one side and declared, "I can't believe that insufferable man!"

"You mean your father?" I tried to make it a gentle reminder but she didn't catch it.

"How can he expect me to give myself to someone I've never met before. I am a princess and should marry who I love. I certainly don't love that King Curtis. I think he's a decade older than I!"

"King Karl?"

"Yes, him. I would rather throw myself from this turret than leave home and go live in those wretched mountains. I've heard they are purely barbaric there. There are only men and they only drink and kill, like wolves. Why would he want me to marry him? What good can come from marrying that savage?"

I'm sure she already knew, but I told her anyway. "An alliance with King Karl means our country will be protected from all other nations. Plus it will allow our merchants safe passage through his forested lands."

"Our armies are sufficient enough!" retorted Colette. "We do not need foreign men to aid us! I bet King Kale will try to overpower us once the marriage is complete!"

"King Karl, you mean?"

"Yes, that man is blood thirsty enough. He'll subject us and control us. I just can't marry him! I'll have to wear wild beast skins and eat with my bare hands like him! We'll live in a pathetic hut and most likely I'd have to do my own laundry!" She looked ready to cry. Instead she tapped her finger thoughtfully on her cheek. "I must think of a plan father will accept that does not include me marrying that King Klaus."

"King Karl?"

"Yes, yes," she replied impatiently and continued to think out loud. "I could threaten to kill myself, but I don't want to attempt that for fear of succeeding. I could offer a new sort of treaty. Perhaps a present of jewels and horses will be enough. Isn't that when men love? Shiny objects and fast fun?" She snorted in derision. "No, father insists it must be a marriage, only that is strong enough to bind the king's loyalty."

I focused on my needle. Surely she would rave for another hour or so and then acknowledge she could do nothing but act in accordance with her father's choice.

Princess Colette had slipped off her dome of a bed and was pacing the floors. Her silk skirts swished as she went back and forth, still talking. "Of course it would be _my _cursed luck not to have any near related females who are of the marrying age. But _why_ must it always be royalty? King Conrad is barbaric and deserves a lowly bride as it is."

This time I didn't bother to try to correct her. _Swish, swish._

"Perhaps there is a peasant girl out there who looks just like me. No. No one could match my beauty. Besides, she would be unrefined and not know a thing about acting like a princess. The ruse would be discovered on first sight. There must be _someone_."

The swishing suddenly stopped. There was an intense moment of silence as I realized the princess was no longer thinking out loud. I slipped a quick glance at her face. Whatever her quiet thoughts were, they were causing a slight smile to slowly slide into place.

"Eithne," her voice was a coo, and filled with inward delight. "I know _precisely_ what to do."

I couldn't help but sigh wearily. When would the princess accept the decision and make the most from the situation? She needed to learn to take the responsibility for herself and not try to pass it on. "And what might that be, princess?"

"_You_ shall marry him in my stead."

* * *

A/N: So. There it is. You have met our main character, Eithne (eth-nee). First impressions? Likes? Dislikes? Again, no beta so tell me when I mess up.

I actually tweaked the beginning a bit to make it more understandable. The "wise ones" are now "sages." I didn't want their title to be too similar to the "Bright One."

**Supercalifrajalistic**- I don't think I'll ever explain in great detail the customs, beliefs, etc, of the sages and Bright One, but I think you'll pick up enough throughout the story. I am hesitant to go into detail because i don't want to tie it to a certain religion. I'm so glad you like the prologue, because I think the rest of the story will be even better. Thank you so much for reviewing!

**SilverStarlightXD**- Thank you! I will definitely be updating, so stick around!

**Guest**- I totally understand your confusion, and thank you for telling me. I was afraid the prologue would be a bit muddled. I went back and fixed it up a bit. Hopefully it helps. But yes, the exile prince is the son of the first good queen. The sage (wise one) is the one who helped the queen escape but he was captured and killed. His grand-daughter was with the prince. Make sense? Thank you for the review!


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